The Crow: Sanity
by Aurocard
Summary: The crow once again choses a representative of vengence...but..maybe there's more than killing that makes revenge so great and fruitful?
1. The Crow: Sanity CHAPTER 1

"**Re-track the footsteps**

**That brought us to this favor,**

**I wouldn't ask this**

**Of you."**

**_-Coheed and Cambria, "A Favor House Atlantic"_**.

In anyone's plain line of vision, tonight was the perfect night to take a walk. The moon was full and set almost exactly at the center for all to see. Every tree that lined Laurel street stood tall and imposing, not even leaning in the slight breeze. Even the stars in the heavens seemed to be held together by little tufts of cloud here and there. This street known as Laurel was captured in darkness-save for the few street lamps that lit every ten feet of walkway-and along this tainted street walked two oblivious siblings.

The duo that treaded along were tagged with the names Geoff and Kyleen Freenome. Considering how they were indeed related, the similarities in their looks and stature could be nothing but expected. Both had a very dark shade of sandy brown hair (though Kyleen preferred to have blonde streaks in hers), as well as green eyes with little specs of rusty brown poking about near the pupil.

Their facial frames however, weren't as similar as the actual looks and expressions. Twenty-two year old Geoff had a slightly narrow face latitude wise, and the way he wore his hair made him look very "rock-star" in a creepy way. It was short near the neck but longer as it reached the top of his head, thick bunches of hair surrounded his eyes and made a shaggy appearance. His nose was thin and yet handsomely pointed. His lips had a slight pouty quality to them, but at the same time they gave a very sarcastic and expressive countenance. At one point during his highschool years, he was called "Mick Jagger" because of it. But he took it all in stride and used it as a compliment more then anything.

Kyleen, at the age of nineteen, had more of a childlike appearance. Her eyes were big and round, almost looking like shimmering emerald orbs. Her mouth very average yet rather pale for her face no matter how many shades of light lipstick she would put on. Her jaw wasn't as narrow as her brothers, but more round and set. Her hair was down to her jaw line, combed to the side causing a good bunch of it to dangle in front of one eye. But that was her trademark appearance, seeing as how she was a guitar player for the Club Corner on Laurel Street.

In fact, this is where the tale gets a kick-start. One the corner of Laurel and Cherry Street, there lie a deli-by-day-club-by-night building. It was a two story structure that had gargoyles sitting atop the sturdy roof. Each 'goyle was poised above with arms outstretched and unusual wings unfurled, spreading out with bird like flair.

Perhaps that is what gave the Club Corner its spirit.

No one really had laid eyes on a true creature of the night with angelic wings. Giving a light touch to such a shrouding hunk of stone did give some people the sudden inclination to just stand and stare at them, sometimes even causing the regular attendants to pause in thought of weather or not they really wanted to go and dance on the sturdy roof.

Of course, in the end, they all would go, and they would dance the night away under the Gargoyles' watch.

As for the rest of the building, the downstairs appeared as a deli should. Boxed in spaces that held the fresh meats and veggies during the open hours were surrounded by sneeze guard glass. Brown tiled floors glistened with cleaner as the outside light beat upon it softly. Tables were situated pleasingly, allowing elbow as well as leg room. Chairs were placed atop the tables on their flip side as most markets would have them set during closed hours. Only one light on the inside remained on, that being the oven light noting to all that it was remaining warm for the following morning.

The second floor, on a different note, was buzzing with life at some points of the night. At 12am, the Club Corner opened with dry ice mists flowing from the window that turned into a mini elevator. The elevator itself consisted of a high tech pulley and a mirror plated floor board. Safe passage was always insured for each couple and bouncer (Of course, no more than three on the ride, ladies and gents) as the lift took them to the high powered second level. It was there that the music and the people combined, making a mural of pure energy.

Kyleen enjoyed it there. She enjoyed sitting on the red velvet barstool, crimson and black laced guitar in arms while playing for the lead singer, Red. Everyone came to listen to them combine their talents to make the most perfect sound of underground music. Every time Red moved his lips, Kyleen would follow with a few finger nailed pluckes and strums of utter harmony. That was Kyleen's pleasure and Geoff couldn't have been more the proud of his sister.

Geoff had his own admirers as well. Kyleen near worshiped him as they both grew, for Geoff had a talent that Kyleen wanted greatly. The ability to act. The readiness to fake the possible, and make the impossible seem so tangable that the audience wanted nothing more then to grasp the words uttered.

In the ampa-theater that crossed the Club Corner, Geoff made his money doing what he did best. Making his expressions and body lie to the world, subterfuging the obvious and making it a reality. He was so good at that, so drop dead good. In fact, because of his talent, he had gotten the privilage to act otu in many of the top plays that had arisen in the D'indulge Group.

Ah yes, D'indulge, the group that college drama kings and highschool acting wannabe's envied. Everyone wanted to be in it, and those who weren't were just seen as amateurs. You could imagine how unnerved some must have been when Geoff was accepted at the age of 18. Fresh out of highschool and out in the world for the first time. No one would have expected him to make it this far in his four years in the group, and to achieve the lead in a very good rendition of Alfred Hitchcock's "Rear Window". Sure, he had to sit in a wheel chair with his leg in a cast and roll around. But that didn't phase him at all. He played his part, and even got down a Jimmy Stewart accent to boot. Yes, it was just perfect.

Now, the story begins, as once said, right here on Laurel and Cherry.

On this corner at 11:45pm, Geoff looked upwards while reaching into his pocket.

"Oh, look," In the middle of a thought, Geoff nodded towards the gathering crowd. Kyleen followed his gaze, shifting her guitar case in her clasped hand. "Looks like another busy night for you, Kyle."

"Mmmmyeah, well." Kyleen stated, still squeezing the handle and raising a brow. "Red'll be thrilled I'm sure."

Geoff nodded his head, and pursed his lips into a smile as a pack of cigarettes peeked out from his pocket. The red label with metallic silver letters glinted in the street lamps illumination.

"Now," He muttered, reaching into his other pocket. "For the light."

Kyleen set her guitar down softly, tilting it to its side against her black jean covered leg and propping it so it wouldn't fall over. Placing her hands in her own pouches, she shuffled about looking for her Rolling Stone's Zippo.

"Geoff," She said, looking at him square on, her visible eye blinking once and squinting a little at the light. "You really should quit those you know. They will pull the life outta you."

He paused in his search for his matches and leaned his head to the side. His hair following his tilt and making a decent toward the floor.

Every time he did that, Kyleen thought, he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. No wonder all the girls flocked toward him like rats to cheese. He had their mom's cuteness.

"I know Kyle," Lips curving now into a very sarcastic smirk, he held out his hand as Kyleen placed the lighter in it. "That's why after this pack I'm quitting. I only have four left."

"Uh huh," She brushed her hair away from her other eye, and nudged the smooth grouping behind her ear as her mouth formed a frown of doubt. "You said that last pack."

"Last pack? This _is_ that last pack. It's the same one," Again, a smart-assed smile as the flicker of flame out-did the street light for a millisecond. He inhaled the smoke and handed back the lighter. "Besides, I hate this brand anyway. It tastes like tar."

"That's because there _is_ tar in it, numb-nut," She picked up her guitar again while shoving her lighter back in her pocket. Geoff caught the glint of the open mouthed symbol as it slid into the black pants. "Anyway, I have to head in. You going to be here all night?

Exhaling, Geoff rested against the lamp post, his lanky frame moving smoothly and perfectly into the lean. "Actually, no I can't. Turns out Noah and Eli want to run a late night rehearsal. Almost like giving a live showing of the Rocky horror, only its Rear Window. I really don't see how that'll work."

"Neither do I, frankly," Kyleen said, chuckling at the thought. "Good luck with that, I'll see you after the show. 3am alright?"

"Correct as usual, King Kyle," That earned a light hit on his shoulder. For a 5'5", medium build woman, Kyleen did pack a punch. "Okay, okay...sorry...3am it is." He said, laughing and flinching in unison.

"Alright them, I'll see you."

Taking another drag, Geoff nodded and then held his cigarette in front of him. It would be better to save the rest of it for the smoke break, then he could stretch out his pack for another day perhaps.

"Mhmm, will do," He muttered, not only to Kyleen, but tot he cigarette. He put it out on the post, wiggling it a bit to make sure it wouldn't burn anymore than it had. "See you, Kyle."


	2. The Crow: Sanity CHAPTER 2

"**No one needs anyone**

**They don't even just pretend.**

**Nu nu nuh, n' nuh n' nuh**

**Johnny's in America."**

_**-Nine Inch Nails w/ David Bowie, "I'm afraid of Americans".**_

The scream filled his ears, ringing, prodding, piercing.

All he could do was sit and stare at the sight below him, binoculars in hand, disbelief dragging across his face.

Though his eyes could not be seen, his open jaw and raised eyebrows were enough to let it be known that horror was in his being.

Then, came the silent voice of a timid woman: Timid, but still audible, causing the binocular bearer to look down.

"I-...it's dead," Wearing a polka dotted dress lined with white lace, a short woman with dark read hair folded an napkin in her hand nervously, staring out away from the horrid sight. "It's been strangled...its neck is broken."

He watched, his binoculars not pulling away, but slowly shifting away to another woman, dressed in a robe and pink slippers, making her way down the stairs with a fierce look in her little black eyes.

"Which one of you did it?" Said the robe clad woman, still making her way down the stairs. "Which one of you killed my dog?"

Her voice pierced his ears even more than the shrill scream. It burned as she spoke the words of scold.

"You don't know the meaning of the word 'neighbor'. Neighbors _like_ each other and _speak_ to each other...they _don't care_ if anyone lives or-"

"_HOLD IT!!"_ Came another harsh voice from farther below.

Geoff rolled his eyes and looked down at the lowest row of the ampa-theater. Another mess up, another screw loose. Eli was prepared to come up the steps once again.

And up he did come, wearing his black suit with the red tie. Black leather shoes with silver tips made the familiar noises of an upset man.

This was true, Eli was upset.

This was the fifth time this night that the scene was run through, and poor old slipper lady forgot that the "Don't" was indeed a "Do."

"Samantha, darling," Eli began, his frosted long hair coming loose from his low hung pony tail. Little strands dangled in front of his black eyes. "I know you are tempted to say 'don't'. Lord knows I was when I went through the read-out with Jonah. But after a few times we got it down pat. Hun, you're brilliant, you really are. And I know you can do this darling. Just please, this last time, say 'do'...remember, the neighbors _do_ care that your dog died. They love you, they would do _anything_ for your dog."

Samantha smiled sheepishly, her middle aged face wrinkled with the contortion.

"Alright, brilliant!" Eli said, turning about face and placing a hand near a strand of hair to move it out of the way. He turned around once more however, and Geoff noted that his face was a lighter shade of copper than before. Was he going pale? "Now, one more time ladies and gents. Let's do this like Brutis!"

Everyone returned to their places.

Samantha walked up the steps that were made of cheap wood, her slippers occasionally slipping off her little feet.

The red haired woman moved back to the fake dead bundle of fluff that lay near the Styrofoam garden.

And Geoff wheeled back to his original position on the small platform that would represent his apartment.

"Okay, one more time, then we'll call it a night," Eli said, a slight shrivel of hope in his tone. "Ready? And..."

Everyone turned their head as they heard the heavy pounding footsteps approach from the upper stands of the audience seats. Geoff wheeled forward a little and winced to see who decided to crash the rehearsal.

"Excuse me sir?" Eli's voice was slightly irritated. "Can I help you?"

Geoff only saw what seemed to be a behemoth of a man.

Seven feet tall at the least, bulking muscles in a tight gray shirt and black jeans. Geoff could not make out his face however, but did note that his frame was very square.

Other than that, even with the binoculars, he could not make out any distinctive features. No mouth, no nose, no eyes, no individualistic marks...nothing.

"Why, yes," A deep rumbling voice emerged from the hulking man. "I'm looking for the director of this play."

"Ah well, it's not just one person," Eli began calmly, brushing more of his strands of out his face and smirking a little. "It's me and my cousin, Jonah. We're both directing Alfred Hitchcock's 'Rear Window'. Lovely story really...is there something you needed?"

"Actually, I can come back later. What I needed isn't here, thank you anyway."

And that was that. He walked away, bulking arms and all.

Not one person said a word as Mr. Muscle stomped up the seat/steps of the ampa-theater and made his way to the dark red Corvette at the very top of the railings.

The car drove off, leaving dark skid-marks on the pavement.

Still, no one attempted to verbalize.

Though, Eli found it in his stomach to speak.

"Well," He started, now looking even more anemic-like. Geoff felt bad for him. "I think, it's safe to say we can just call it a night. I'll call Jonah and tell him how it went, but I would appreciate it if no one told him that the muscle man was here for him. Is that alright"

Everyone nodded, even the members of the cast on their break showed acknowledgment.

Some held coffee in their hands while some were stuck pouring sugar into their tea, and a few were even in the middle of a magazine, allowing the light draft to push a page or two.

"Thank you ladies and gents...until tomorrow."

Eli clapped his hands, and everyone broke off to get ready to go home.


	3. The Crow: Sanity CHAPTER 3

"**Their tears are filling up their glasses,**

**No expression**

**No expression.**

**Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow,**

**No tomorrow**

**No tomorrow."**

_**-Gary Jules, "Mad World (Full Version)".**_

Kyleen was tired, but she listened to Geoff anyway, her drooping eyes opening once and awhile to focus on where she was walking.

"So, Eli knew the guy was looking for Jonah?" She asked.

"Well, that's how I figure it, yeah," Geoff said, finally smoking the last bit of the cig from before. "I mean, the man didn't even mention Jonah, just asked for the director...you'd think that he'd want one of them at least."

"What did he look like?" Kyleen asked in a drowsy state, offering a yawn.

"Well, I couldn't see his face," Geoff began, taking a final drag from his cig-of-the-night. "But he was huge. Still, I wish I coulda seen his face...his hair might have been combed back...or something."

They turned the corner on San Carlos Ave. and Laurel, and headed up to an apartment complex, pausing at the first door they came upon. The door welcomed a dark black shadow across its body despite the fact that it was brown.

At this apartment complex, Kyleen would shelter under her brother's wing on the weekends.

To be frank, anywhere but their step-father's care she would rather stay, and she would often run to Geoff for help whenever the step-dad from hades acted up.

"You'll be able to wake up tomorrow morning?" Geoff said, fumbling in his jacket pocket for his keys. "Because I would like to make it to your school _before_ the first buzz. You know how Paul get's when he finds you to be late."

She just nodded her head, the straight locks in front of her eye moving with gravity.

"Damn it," he huffed as he turned his jacket pockets inside out. " I left them on the wheelchair again. I have to go back and get them."

"What about the spare under the mat?"

"Jonah has that," He took off his jacket and flung it over his shoulder, turning away from the door for the trek back to the theater. "He needs it in case he has to use some of the props and make-up I have in my closet."

Geoff stepped off the mini-porch and started to walk, pausing a moment to turn back and waver his hand at Kyleen.

"You coming?" He asked. "Or am I to leave you on the front porch all by your lonesome?"

She stepped off the porch lazily with her guitar in her hand, lugging it along as she followed three steps behind her brother.

Fatigue started to catch up to her slowly, and if Geoff had not noticed this, her guitar would have been broken to pieces the moment they hit the mini-mart on Laurel.

"Hrm, and you say smokes will kill me," He chortled, grabbing the guitar from her rubbery grasp. "I think late nights like this will kill you before any type of growth resides in my lungs."

"Ha ha ha, keep it up Geoffry," She yawned again. "At least I have a reason to be tired. Red had an encore of 'Just for you' tonight. And the solos on that are killer."

Conversation between the duo commenced. Subjects concerning Geoff continuing acting and Kyleen switching majors in college ensued when Cherry Street popped up.

The black, thick, ink-like darkness spread along the seat/steps of the theater and the stage could barely be seen. Sure enough, though, a light flicker of light caught Geoff's eye, and he winced enough to see the keys that were seated on the arm of the wheelchair.

He smiled in reassurance.

"I'll be back, Kyle," He set down the guitar, laying it flat on the ground.

Kyleen leaned against one of the smaller lamp posts, laying her head directly on the metal. She watched her brother hop over the fence lining the theater and heard his footsteps skip down quickly to the front.

Then, the audibility of his grunts and rustling reached her ears. Her eyes opened fully to see him run up the set of wooden steps, and reach the wheelchair.

"Sweet," He said aloud, grasping the keys with triumph.

He shoved the keys into his pocket and looked up to make a face at Kyleen.

But she wasn't there.

"Kyle? Hey, Kyle!"

Nothing.

All he saw was an empty space where she once occupied while her guitar lay alone where he had set it.

The breeze became harsh for a quick moment, blowing his hair to his left, and began to die slowly.

"Kyle?" He called again, jumping off the stage and onto the front seat/step. He made his way up quickly as he slid his jacket back on.

Chills were quickly running up his spine for some reason, and this is he did not like one bit.

Reaching the fence, he skipped over and stood by the guitar. He saw nothing, or at least, what he perceived as nothing.

Silence split everything in his view.

Even though the gust of wind was still in the midst of dying down, the paper and leaves that slid along the pavement did not make a sound. The tree branches that were swaying at this point made no brushing disturbances, nor did they creak with age as they used to.

No cars could be heard in the distance, no music from any building, not even the Club Corner was rocking out with the night.

It was so still.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-

Geoff lightly snarled as his wrist watch went off, announcing the hour had arrived to four in the morning. He tapped the button to shut it off, the little illuminated screen blinking the "4:00am" in digital numbers and letters.

Pain comes in many forms, the light, the medium, the hard, and whatever lies in between. In this case, Geoff felt the startling explosion of hard pain in the back of his skull.

He fell over, his jaw cracking against the hard metal fence. Blood sprayed from the left side of his mouth and his voice was shut out by a gurgling disturbance coming from the back of his throat.

"GEOFF! GEOFF! OH GOD! GET UP!" Kyleen's voice rang amongst the sound of fabric rustling. Her sudden burst of energetic spasms were closely tagged along with grunts of discomfort. "LET ME GO YOU ASSHOLE!! LET ME GO!!"

Geoff's eyes shot open the instant the second voice came within his hearing range.

"Now, now, sweetheart," Dark, husky, deep, shrouded in hate, yet sugar-coated with a satisfied malice. "I think you really should quit fighting. Things go easier when you relax."

"God Damn It!" She burst out in the midst of more wrestling noises.

"Sweetheart," Arching in sarcastic warning, the voice did. "Don't make me take drastic measures. I do want you alive to see your brother. Now please..."

Kyleen's voice lurched as a cracking disturbance occurred

"...hold still."

"O-oh...okay," Kyleen sighed, whimpering.

"Good girl."

Geoff placed his palms on the ground, attempting to push upwards.

He found that his poise had become very lopsided and drowsy even when he attempted to sit up, shaking his head a little and wiping the blood from his mouth. In the midst of the wiping action, he cringed when pure, solid pain shot through his spine.

"Damn it," Geoff muttered, turning his head a little to the source of the scuffling sounds. "Kyleen...where are you?"

"Why, she's right here, in my arm."

_Arm_?

Geoff's lanky frame finally was forced upwards out of sheer will, and he placed a hand on a bloodied part of the fence to keep himself stable. Eyeing the floor, he squinted to maintain focus while his head caught up with his brains want to keep balance.

A dark red smear spread on a couple of bricks of the walkway, covering the cold material with a thick, messy stain. Near the splatter were a set of black shoes, followed by black jeans (which just happened to cover muscled legs), and then a grey shirt that moved and wrinkled with a heaving, bulky chest.

Kyleen was hanging limply like a rag doll while the protruding arm of Mr. Muscle held her close to his side. It clung to her like a Boa-Constrictor would to its pray, her bones actually making faint noises of protest while he squeezed against her.

He was going to make sure the girl wouldn't hop up and leave.

He was going to make sure she couldn't move at all.

And if all was going to go to plan, he would definitely make sure she would be paralyzed by the time Geoff would get to him.

Kyleen's stance on this wasn't a jolly one. Her spine and ribs were aching under this man's tight grip. Every time she inhaled, her lungs would stop short of a full breath, and she was forced to exhale out in a loud wheeze. She saw her vision blur as her eyes began to tear up.

Were these tears of pain?

The pain wasn't the cause.

She did feel restrained, held back, helpless. It was tears of helplessness.

The last thing she wanted to be.

She wanted to wrestle, break free. She wanted out of there.

But no matter how much she may have longed for it, she knew in her heart and her mind that she couldn't get out of the giant's grasp.

Then a moment of realization occurred: Her vision was not only getting hazy from tears. Her mind wanted to break free while her breathing stared to slow.

No, she couldn't have that. She opened her eyes wide, and her vision restored. Her lungs screaming out in ache as she forced a long breath in.

"What do you want?" Geoff's groggy voice came through her haze. "Let her go."

"One thing at a time, son," Said Mr. Muscle. "One thing at a time."

"Then, let's start with what you want."

Brown eyes were now visible from the shadows, which still covered Mr. Muscle's face rather well. The orbs moved to the left, the right, then winced in mocking thought.

"Hmm...what do I want. Ah yes. I remember," The unoccupied arm raised up, its large hand erecting an index finger as if a light had turned on. " I want your director. Well...originally I had. But thing have changed.

Geoff's brow raised a bit as he stepped forward. The revelation that his movements were a little slower then the norm phased him slightly, his legs feeling like stiff metal pegs as he moved on.

"Eli isn't the only director, but I think you know that," Geoff began. "Noah however, probably wouldn't want to see you. Unlike Eli, he doesn't swing that way. So if you're interested in him, I'd recheck my Gay-dar and try again at another ampa-theater."

Kyleen heard this, and would have laughed.

Geoff had a very good wit as well as a tongue to match it. But as usual, it got him in so much trouble over the years. This was no exception.

As a matter of fact, this would be the last time Geoff would be able to use his "Ass of Smarts 101" wit, alive.

Somehow, Kyleen knew this, and it twisted her insides to know that her feminine intuition kicked in so hard...(or was that the tightening boa?).

"You idiot," She mumbled, breathing in once more to stay awake. As of this moment, the pain was in her high regard to keep her alert, and she even thanked it silently. "You are such a moron."

Mr. Muscle didn't like that comment either.

Him? With a Gay-dar of all things? How preposterous.

"You have a smart mouth on you, young man," His voice cracked slightly at the beginning of the sentence.

"Thank you," Geoff coughed a little, and the back of his head throbbed with a quick, agonizing pang. He raised his left hand to the back of his head and his face went from pain to surprise. "Ah crap.."

His head had been hit so hard that the skin was broken, a large gash could be ascertained through careful searching and a warm substance seeped between his digits. Bringing his hand to the front of his face, he squinted and let his jaw hang open for a moment.

His hand was almost coated from bottom of palm to the second knuckle on his middle finger with blood.

"Crap," He muttered.

This momentary distraction was all Mr. Muscle needed.

Kyleen suddenly felt the pressure release from the arm that held her, and she sucked in a pain free breath. The breath was cut short near the end quite suddenly when she felt herself being flung upwards.

Her body flew about ten feet from the point she once was at, and the air time she achieved being thrown would have put an NBA all-star to shame.

Geoff's attention on his hand stole away to his sister being thrown over him.

He turned around as she flew above him, and then proceeded to head toward a large set of garbage cans.

"KYLEEN!" Geoff hollered, his voice and the crash of her body slamming against the metal came together in a frightening chorus.

Forgetting the wound he had achieved on his head, the adrenaline coursed through his system hurriedly, legs moving with a force that he had not known he held within. He reached his hands forward, ready to kneel next to his sister once he got near enough.

Mr. Muscle had a different idea.

Geoff was five feet away from retrieving his sister, who was now unconscious and lying against the cans on her side. Her head was tilted backwards slightly, and blood was starting to seep out of her arm. The gash underneath the tear in her fabric was fresh, and the depth of the wound made a scent that reached Geoff's nostrils.

Kyleen was hurt horribly, and he wanted to help her and get her out of there.

Just five feet away.

Had he been able to move faster, he could have avoided the big hand grappling onto the scruff of his jacket.

His body jerked back, and he felt the burn in his spine singe his nerves. The balance he had was now gone and the adrenaline that was once pumping in his system was now shot to hell.

He was tired again.

Mr. Muscle gripped the jacket tightly, actually picking up the hurt boy to turn him around and look into his eyes.

Geoff saw the eyes.

So brown.

_So full of shit_, he thought.

He saw Geoff's eyes too, the green still burning with life within the tired face.

Geoff's mouth was open slightly, a light string of blood and saliva escaping his lower lip. It fell on his wrinkled shirt.

"No, no, no, Geoff," Said Mr. Muscle, very gently. "I can't allow you to do that. You have to stay around here with me. I have things in store for you."

"I did tell you that I wasn't interested either, right?" Geoff sputtered, his windpipe being crushed by his own shirt. He coughed, and some crimson flew out, hitting Mr. Muscles' shirt.

Geoff looked down at the gray material at the same time Mr. M did.

"There," Geoff said, grinning. "We're even now."

It was then, he knew that he shouldn't have been so smart.

The brown eyes now seemed red as they filled with hatred and anger, but the voice was still so calm despite that fact.

"I did have things in store for you," Mr. Muscle began, his other monstrous hand reaching upwards slowly. "But, I don't think I am going to have the patience anymore to put up with your wise attitude."

The hand grasped Geoff's neck, and the crushing sensation he had been feeling worsened greatly. His eyes jutted out of his skull while his arms instinctively flailed upwards to reach for the cause of the constriction.

"You are going to die now," Mr. Muscle said, still adding the gentle drop to his deep and husky tone. "And just to see that this is well remembered, I'm going to leave Kyleen alone, and alive. She'll see you, on the ground, dead cold. And who knows how that will effect her mind? I do. Very well in fact."

The burly hand holding his throat released the pressure just a little, and Geoff gasped for a breath.

Green eyes, filled with life despite how helpless he was.

"Don't you hurt her," He gargled, more blood coming from his lips. It was crimson liquid flowing out of his mouth dueling crimson liquid falling into his throat and that battle caused him to gag in between words.. "Don't you hurt her." More choking.

"I won't," The pressure reapplied, and Geoff felt the circulation toward his head start to weaken. "She won't even be touched. She'll just remember you dead."

This was it. He was going to die.

Funny how his grasping attempts to remove the hulking arm started to calm down.

Strange how the thought of fading away from this earth became such a relaxing notion.

His will to live was eroding away with his lungs' will to continue breathing. It was exhausting, straining.

So much work just to do a simple thing such as take in air.

_I'm giving up_, He let his brain mention. _I'm giving up, and no one is here to keep me alive. _

_Kyleen... _

_I'm so sorry. _

_I'm trying. _

_I'm sorry. _

_I can't, even though I'm trying._

A loud, painful snap was felt in his neck, and one final thought emanated from the gray matter.

_I'll figure a way out of this, like I always do. I'll think of some...thing...a way...something...some...thing..._

His heart beat in unison with the word.

_Something...something...some-thing..._

_...some-thing...some...thing..._

_...some... thing...some...thing..._

_...some...thing..._...

And there it died.

Geoff's limp body was set to the ground on his back, looking upwards towards the sky. Once burning green eyes now were lifeless, void, empty...looking into the purple atmosphere.

The sun was rising, but Geoff did not have the knowledge of this for his brain was officially dead and his organs did not wish to function any more.

He was nothing but a shell, and Kyleen would not know this until she opened her eyes an hour later.


	4. The Crow: Sanity Birds Intermission

It knew, and It took pride in having the notion that he was dead.

It also knew that It had ample time to take a look at the body before she awoke.

It waited as the muscle man walked away to his 'vette.

The tires did not skid this time, a stealthy exit was made for the sake of not being caught.

The blur of feathers landed beside the very fresh corpse. It's inky black, feathery head tilted to the side a little as It examined its next representative.

Geoff did look rather skinny indeed, as if he didn't eat much to begin with. His lanky appearance would make it very frightening though.

Usually skinny dead people had a tendency to strike an uncertain panic in the hearts of those that witness such a spectacle.

Just picture it: A pale young man with empty eyes and the look of certain demise spread on his lips. Head tilted downward slightly, but the green orbs are looking ahead through the locks of sandy brown hair. They look at their target with malice, with anger, with hatred...the very embodiment of his enemy's voice. His lanky body making its way rather speedily towards what he wants, and killing it, punishing it, whatever he can do to it so it would not dismiss him from the mind. Then, in the end, getting what had to be done, accomplished.

Yup.

This was the one. But, it wasn't time to wake him up yet.

However, she needed to awaken.

The bird would allow the bystanders to do that.


	5. The Crow: Sanity CHAPTER 4

"**I listened to the words he'd say**

**But in his voice I heard decay...**

**...The sweetest price he'll have to pay**

**The day the whole world went away."**

_**-Nine Inch nails, "The Day the World Went Away".**_

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know, we won't know 'till the doctor arrives."

"Where is an ambulance when you _need_ one?"

"Where they always are."

"Yeah, not here."

Kyleen's eyes fluttered open at the sounds of the voices.

People were there, they were there and they could help.

"Hey, hey! Charles! She's waking up!"

"Wait...don't move her!"

She rolled her head a little, her body soon following until she was lying on her back.

"Ack..." She muttered. Her neck was stiff, and her ribs felt so tight around her lungs. It still hurt so much to breathe.

"I _told_ you not to move her, David!" Rapid footsteps followed that statement, and Kyleen turned her head in the direction they were coming from.

"I didn't move her," Came the nearest voice. It was slightly rough and with a nasal tone. "She's rolling around on her own."

"G...Geoff..." She whispered while her eyes tried to focus on whomever was next to her.

A round face with a round nose came into view. Dark blue eyes with a look of concern were blinking rather rapidly as if unaware. Red-gold hair stood in front of those eyes in a straight fashion and freckles outlined his face and cheeks rather handsomely.

"What?" He said, reaching a hand down and placing it on her shoulder. "Who?"

"Geoff..." She mumbled again, still trying to inhale fully. "Where is he?"

That was when Charles came into view.

This fellow had sharp features and was very thin. He too had blue eyes, but with dark blonde hair, and his nose pointed slightly upward. He had no freckles, but did have a small resemblance to David.

"Hey, kid," Charles said. "Don't move, we're waiting for the doctor, he'll take care of you."

"I don't care about me," She said harshly, trying to sit up despite Charles' warning. "I want to know if Geoff is okay."

"She must mean...at the side of the road..." David began, his voice sounding deep in thought.

"Shut up!" Charles gave a very hard smack upside David's head.

"What...?" Kyleen asked, a look of bewilderment on her face. "Side of the road?"

"Nothin', kid," Charles said calmly. "He meant nothing."

"Don't you give me that," Kyleen's voice was dark and very livid at this point. "Where is my brother? Who are you talking about?"

"Ah, so he's _your_ _brother_," David had a smile across his face as if he had figured out the world's hardest quiz. "Was wondering how the stiff knew ya."

Charles at this point almost viciously attacked David, raising both arms and rapidly bringing them down.

Kyleen's world was now dropped out of view, the floor beneath her was gone and she was falling fast. Her heart was not able to catch up to the sensation of vertigo, and she passed out again, hitting the floor harshly.

David and Charles both panicked, but luckily the sirens arrived, and the ambulance pulled over.

Three men hurriedly jumped out of the vehicle, landing on the pavement near Geoff. One of them attended to the body, as the other two ran toward Kyleen.

The fatter one of the two knelt down and reached for Kyleen's arm.

"Um," David said, still in a slight flinch from the previous episode. "She is alive."

"He _knows_ that," Charles said. "He just wants to make sure her heart is beating alright."

"It's faint," Said the paramedic. "But she'll be alright."

The thinner one nodded his head and sighed, lifting a watch out of his front pocket.

"I wish I could say the same about the young man," He turned his head around to the shortest member of the team who accompanied Geoff. "T.O.D.?"

"That's for the Coroner to decide, Bob," He replied, standing up and taking off his gloves. "We have to attend to the living while we can, and let them handle the corpse."

David and Charles watched as the short member made his way to Kyleen.

David leaned to the side and whispered. "Do you think we should tell Jonah? I mean...this is deep."

"I think we should," Charles nodded. "I know that Geoff would want her to be in good hands, and Jonah is the best person I can think of."

"I knew that he had a sister, but I didn't think she was like _that_," David muttered. "She's stubborn."

"Well, now we know where she got it from," They both chuckled dryly.

Charles then walked to the shorter of the three.

"Is it okay if we take her after she gets better? We know her brother..."

He pointed to Geoff's body.

"...and we know where she can stay. You see, Geoff was her only refuge, and she won't have anywhere else to go."

"Does she have any next of kin?" The paramedic asked.

"If you mean by blood, no," Charles raised an eyebrow, really hoping that was the right answer.

"Well, I don't mean by blood exactly. But she is an adult, and she can go where she wants. Wait till she wakes up and we'll see what her requests are."

Charles and David nodded solemnly and turned around to make their way to their modes of transportation.

"I'll get Jonah and meet you at the Hospital," David said, opening the door to his black truck. "Keep her company for us will ya?"

"Of course," Charles said, hopping onto his Harley. "I'll see you there."

They parted their ways just as the giant S.U.V.'s began arriving, bringing along within them the very teams that would determine what exactly had happened to Geoff.

The ambulance left as well while Charles followed on his bike.

David made the fifteen minute trip to Jonah's Duplex, during which he took out his small metallic blue cell phone. First he sent a rather long text message explaining what he had found, but within ten minutes of the trip he had not gotten a reply. So he proceeded to call Jonah's cell.

There was no answer.

But right when he pulled into the dirt driveway of the complex, a tall figure quickly opened the duplex door and made it's way to the truck.

The truck door opened violently and in came Jonah, scrambling into the seat.

"What happened?" Jonah asked frantically, his black eyes open wide and unblinking. "David, what happened?"

"I don't know everything yet, man," David said, revving up the engine and speeding off. "All I know is that Geoff's sister is going to the hospital, and the Coroner dudes are handling his body."

Jonah placed a hand on his forehead and ran it back through his cheekbone length, purple and blue-streaked hair. His copper skin was soaked with cold sweat, and it started to absorb into his black tee-shirt.

"So he really is dead," He huffed, blinking for the first time since he got into the truck.

"Well, yeah Jonah," David give a very rhetorical look as he sped to the hospital. "I didn't spend five minutes pounding on a little phone to tell you that he was dead for my health."

Jonah's head turned slowly to David, his brows furrowing into a slight scowl.

David didn't even have to look at him to realize that he said yet another stupid thing.

"Sorry, man," He said hurriedly, turning a corner and stopping harshly in a parking spot near the rear of the lot. "I really am sorry. I'm wired up just like you."

"Let's just go," Jonah said, opening the door and hopping out.

The inner corridors of the hospital were unusually quiet for this time of the morning. It was 6:30am, and normally the halls would be buzzing with doctors, an occasional gurney or two, nurses and quite possibly police. The only thing they did see was a receptionist desk, and a woman behind the counter eating a bowl of cheerios.

"Excuse me," Jonah inquired, placing his arms on the counter.

The woman quickly straightened up and put her bowl to the side.

"Sorry about that," She said in a southern drawl. "What can I help you with?"

"I'd like to know the room number of Kyleen Freenome," He raised his hand and once again ran his fingers through his multicolored hair. "I'm a very close friend of her brothers."

"Oh," She tilted her head a little. "Yes she came in about a half hour ago. Let me find her number."

David stood a few feet from the counter itself and placed his hands in the pockets of his jersey pants.

Jonah on the other hand was continuously running his hand through his hair as the receptionist fiddled with the computer and a piece of paper.

"Ah okay, here she is," She placed her finger on the screen. "Room 54-A, Bed 1. They are allowing visitors, and she is awake. So, if you wish to see her just go on up to the fifth floor."

That is exactly where they headed, both of them dashed to the nearest elevator and ascended to the fifth floor.

"Fifty four...fifty four..." Jonah muttered as he eyed all the doors through the long corridor.

"Over here!" David called, pointing to 54-A. "She's in here!"

"Hey!" Charles called from within. "Yeah, she's awake."

Jonah came in first, and he almost felt sick to his stomach.

Kyleen's face was gaunt, so blank and void. Her eyes were halfway closed and her hands were placed at her sides. She was sitting up, but she didn't look as if she could do much else.

She did turn her head though, and the corners of her lips couldn't decide if they wanted to turn upward, or dive downward.

"J..Jonah..." She whimpered as a tear slid down her face. "Jonah...J-Jonah..."

Jonah pulled up a chair and sat down, immediately leaning forward to wrap his long arms around Kyleen.

They both cried into each other's shoulder, they both clung to each other for dear life and with each breath came out little bits and pieces of relief that they were able to see each other.

"I'm so glad you're alive, Kyle," Jonah said, pulling back to get a look at her. "Gods."

"Oh yeah?" Kyleen raised a brow. "Well personally, I'm not. I shouldn't be here."

"Don't say that," Jonah placed a hand on the side of her face.

"I'm so sick, Jonah," The sobbing started to get uncontrollable as her heart continued to make its way up her throat, preventing her from speaking in a straight tone. Her voice progressively getting louder and louder with each statement. "Jonah, I don't feel well...Jonah get me out of here...let me rest...don't leave me...I want to lay down...I don't feel good at all Jonah...Jonah?"

Jonah reached forward and held her once again, her head resting on his chest and one of her hands gripping onto his shirt.

She cried into the fabric, secretly hoping that it would absorb not only her tears, but her actual hurt as well.

Perhaps if she had looked up from the darkness, this would all have been a dream...and Geoff wouldn't be dead, and she'd be home in his apartment.

"It's okay, Kyle," Jonah ran his fingers through her hair this time, being so careful not to clench her too tightly to himself. She needed all the room in the world to breathe. "It's okay...it'll all be alright. Just...just keep crying."

David and Charles both took this as a cue to leave, and they did. Walking out the double doors and into the dim sunshine to head home.

Clouds started to form up above.

Very good chance of rain.


	6. The Crow: Sanity CHAPTER 5

"**It's like me**

**To never see**

**When it came, when it went**

**And it's gone away."**

_**-Kutlass, "It's like me".**_

Time slowly moved for Kyleen. Her inner self had not fully matured enough yet to understand that she was now twenty-one, and very near the next phase of adulthood. As a result, she did not feel the need to continue on with her Music major at the collage she attended. On the other hand, she preferred to play at the now renovated Club Corner.

A new floor was added, as well as one more less threatening Gargoyle. The roof was still considered the main dance floor, but the inner sanctuary was where the music resided. If people wanted to lounge, they did it in the new third floor. Couches and large chairs surrounded the center stage, encasing it in a wide variety of leather and velvet. The lights were positioned so strategically that it was hard to tell where the actual source of the illumination came from.

When Kyleen would sit on the barstool, and prepare to play for Red, a light would appear out of nowhere and would shine upon her small frame.

And when the light did shine on Kyleen, she would keep her head down.

Her hair (which had grown about five inches at this point) would surround her face in a flurry of sandy brown and blonde, and her single visible eye would peer out to the crowd with a sad and angry look.

Everyone got a kick out of that, seeing the emerald from within the darkness beam out to the audience and strangely touch their hearts in a sympathetic way. It was something that no one understood, yet they had a grand comprehension of how hurt she really was.

On this night, Red walked up the small set of stairs that lead to the center stage. He stood by Kyleen quietly while she tuned her guitar, hunching over it like an obsessed hermit.

"Hey, Kyleen?" Red said in his silky and unbroken Irish tone. "The show doesn't start for another hour, did you want to go to the bar and get something to drink?"

Kyleen straightened up and arched her back a bit. Light pops emanated from her spine before she turned to face him.

She didn't say a word while she undid the strap to her guitar and set it down next to the stool before standing.

"Maybe even talk a little?" Red encouraged subtly.

She brought her right hand to her face and brushed her long hair away from both her eyes and bringing it to where it grouped behind her neck.

For the first time, Red noticed that her eyes remained just a little more than halfway open, even when she was looking up at him.

"Or maybe you'd prefer to go home and rest?"

Kyleen shook her head, and spoke very quietly. "I don't want to rest, Red. But thanks for the suggestion," She turned away to head toward the bar.

Red followed and as he walked, he placed one hand in his pocket and found his wallet. Pulling that out, he put a slight quick in his pace to get along side Kyleen.

"You do wanna talk though," Red mentioned in the duration the bar came into reach. "Right? I mean, you've been rather quiet, lass."

"I have?" Kyleen asked obliviously.

"Yes, very quiet. You're almost as quiet as my dead grandmother."

Kyleen chuckled a little. "That's pretty quiet, Red."

Red poked her with his wallet, and Kyleen looked up at him.

Red was the type of man who really had a calming effect about his person. He had a medium frame that was covered in lean muscle, and his deep blue eyes were surrounded by wavy locks of bright red hair (hence his name, fancy, non?). His long legs made him slightly taller than Jonah by about two inches, and his nimble hands made it possible for him to do nifty tricks with the handling of the microphone. The voice he possessed was very soft and low when he spoke, but in singing he had gained a reputation as being a man who could reach octaves that no normal man could reach.

"I'll take a Smirnoff Triple Black," She muttered, reaching in her own pocket to pull out a small wad of bills.

Red placed his hand on her shoulder. "No," He said, smirking. "I'll take care of this one."

Kyleen reluctantly removed her hand from her clothing and rested her elbows on the black marble bar. Looking down, she started to follow the lightning-like patters that spread themselves about on the smooth surface.

Red saw her eyes dart this way and that slowly.

"I'll have a Ginger Charrie with four cherry's please?" Red said, relaxing a bit and slouching in his barstool.

Kyleen got her bottle right away, and took a glass from a little rack near the mini-cash register that lie to the left of her. She poured a good amount into the glass, and started sipping at it.

"Kyleen," Red cleared his throat. "I've heard about you not finishing your major. Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yup," Simple as that, not even a pause.

"Why though? There's a lot of promise for someone who completes that."

"Because I could," She took another sip from the glass.

Red's drink reached him and he poked a straw through the narrow glass. The cherries at the bottom of the drink nudged aside as the red tube poked each one of them.

"Why are you so concerned?" Kyleen looked over at Red, swiveling about in her stool to face him fully.

"Because, I just am. I've known you for over five years, Kyleen. In all those years I've never seen you so anti-social and down."

He poked the straw through one of the cherries and pulled it out of the drink. Ripping out the stem, he ate the cherry slowly.

"Thanks for the caring notion," Kyleen began, pouring another glass full. "But I'm fine. I'm getting paid good, I'm doing what I love, and I have my own place. Life could not get any better than this."

"Then act like it's gotten better, lass. Cheer up a bit," He was now trying to pierce a second cherry. "Because I am getting very worried about you."

Kyleen closed her eyes for a moment and took in a silent breath.

Like Jonah, Red had told her many times that he was worried about her and her emotional well being.

It was nice to know that people did worry and care for her, but at the same time she was getting so tired of everyone pushing their own concerns to the side just to focus on her inner turmoil.

"Red," She said calmly, looking back toward her drink. "Thanks again for your concern, but you really should not be troubled about me. Okay? The only thing you should worry about is if weather or not I make it to practice, and if I make it to work on time."

Red gave a light scowl, but the expression turned quickly into a smirk. "You're not just a band member, you know. You're not just the guitar bit in this pack. You are a person, someone who I care for. You've been my friend Kyleen, the least I can do is return all the favors you've done for me."

"I don't need anything," She stated very blankly, shutting her eyes again. "But thanks."

Red finally got that cherry he was aiming for, and pulled it out of the drink, holding it up by the stem to let it drip dry while he was in thought. The clear droplets of the Ginger Charrie fell back into the source, making "plunk" noises.

"Kyleen," His voice came out a little stern. "Perhaps you need another vacation."

Her eyes opened at the sound of that. "Vacation?"

"Yes," He nodded, finally eating the cherry.

She shook her head.

Even though she did not say anything, Red took the silence as a final answer.

Loud and clear.

"Alright then, we've got about forty five minutes. Let's do this."

She nodded and took the bottle with her.


	7. The Crow: Sanity CHAPTER 6

"**Don't be afraid...**

**...Don't run away."**

**_-Jamie Rowe, "We're Taking Over._"**

The sun set gingerly behind the over towering Bank of The State building, causing the structure's billboard to blend in with the blackness of its walls.

Three dark green hands moved along the pale, bright face of the bank's clock, announcing silently that the time was 8:30 pm.

Four pigeons sat at the base of the clock, pecking randomly at the ground at fragments of imaginary bread. One of the birds paused a moment and stared upward, the other three soon followed. And just as quickly as they silenced themselves, they fluttered violently away from the figure coming towards them.

Kyleen Freenome strolled slowly towards the Club Corner, guitar case clutched in one hand and her key chain in the other. She slid her index finger into the loop of her key chain and twirled it around in circles causing a light sound of clanking metal when the set of ten keys hit her palm.

A light caught the corner her eye, as well as a quick shadow wavering.

"Hey!" Came a muffled shout. "HEY, Kyleen!!"

Kyleen turned her head upwards and looked into the "2-Four" convenient store window.

And tried not to smirk.

Flailing his long arm in the air was Eli, his now shoulder blade length hair (still frosted, yet with newly added orange-ish streaks) surrounded his face, casting a light shadow on his copper skin.

"Come in here!" He wavered his hand again, beckoning toward her. "C'mon, sweetheart!"

Kyleen shook her head for a moment, looking downward. She mumbled to herself a few times, but not even her own quiet whisper could keep her lips from spreading in a grin.

"Hey Eli," She said, pushing the door open.

A light chime announced her entry.

Eli wrapped his arms around her and gave her a light squeeze.

"How are you, hun?" He said, smiling.

"Oh, I've been pretty good," She said, returning the smile. "How 'bout you, Eli?"

"Ah, you know, still directing here, choreographing there. I'm not going to give that up anytime soon, dearie," He giggled, flicking his wrist toward himself so that his fingertips touched his chest. "I mean come on, where would D'indulge be without me?"

"I don't know, they'd have Jonah. Right?"

"Well yes, but it takes an artistic mind to handle the actors and actresses of the theater."

She chuckled. "Jonah's artistic enough I believe."

"Well true," Eli chortled. "I mean, it does leak out of him. Look at his hair."

"I think my hair is just fine, thank you very much."

Both looked toward the Isle with snacks to see Jonah, a box of candy in one hand, and a 42 ounce Snow-ee in the other. He made the goofy gesture of sipping at the blue beverage, and then gave a toothy smirk.

Kyleen noticed that he kept his hair the same length, and it was still that lovely shade of purple, with the slight streak-age of blue.

Other than that, not much changed about Jonah, save for the new dark green shirt with a depiction of Darth Vader holding up a blue light saber. A speech bubble above Vader said: "I believe this is yours, Obe-wan."

Kyleen set her guitar down and raised her hand to point at the candy. "Are those Runts?"

Jonah raised one of his eyebrows, and grinned. "But of course."

"I swear, Jonah," Eli said, walking over to poke the orange box. "Those are, SO bad for you."

"It's better than smoking," Kyleen piped in, still chuckling.

Jonah's grin faded for a moment. "Yeah, way better."

Kyleen blinked, and looked at the floor. Her smile too, had faded.

"So," Eli said. "How are things on the home front, Kyleen?"

"Oh, they're fine. Still working at the Club Corner," She reached toward her guitar case. "Red asked us to go in for an early rehearsal, you know how tha-"

"Oh don't I EVER, sweetheart," Eli whimsically flicked his wrist again. "Don't I ever."

"You seem rather happy," Kyleen blurted, still feeling a slight hint of uncomfortableness. She had her hand around the handle of the case, and she was gripping it tightly. "What's been up?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe," Eli flamboyantly began.

Jonah just rolled his eyes, and shook his head, smiling a little as Eli spoke.

"You see, we got this new play, totally new," Eli stated. "It's about this young man who gets this nifty little coat of many colors. Blues, purples...all that fun stuff..."

Eli continued on about the "new" play/musical, and during the shpeel, Jonah and Kyleen would eye each other with a "Um...hello?" look. Both tried their best not to snicker at all.

Then, Kyleen said her goodbye. It was simple really.

Despite the fact that this was the first time in over three months that she had seen them, she really did not feel the need to make discussion.

After all, she knew Jonah would be on her case.

She left, guitar case in hand, and headed to the club.

-----

Jonah watched her exit, and set the Runts down on a shelf clearly made for travel sewing kits and batteries.

He held his hand on the box, and stared at it.

She'd changed so much. It wasn't surprising.

After all, her only real family did die.

He remembered how she used to be. Willing to talk, her green eyes full of life. Her voice so chipper and high pitched whenever she talked of things she liked, or what she was exited about, or Red.

"He came to me and asked if I wanted to be in their band...can you believe it???" She had said, almost jumping out of her PF flyers. Her short, cheekbone hair bobbing up and down with every jump. "All I had to do was NOT play stairway to heaven!"

Jonah laughed when she had mentioned that. And he would then give her a hug.

"Some birthday isn't it?" Jonah said while hugging her.

"Gods, you have no clue!" She would reply, still shaking.

Jonah backed away, and held up a small white envelope.

Kyleen looked clueless as she took the card, flipping it over to read the front.

"'To Kyleen, Happy 17th'. Really origional, Jonah." She snickered and turned the envalope around again to open it.

The little card was blank. No picture, nothing festive. Just a plain black card with two red words. "Well Deserved." And on the inside there was a small peice of paper, with six numbers on it.

"What's this?" She said, eyeing the numbers.

"You should know, Kyle," Jonah said, smiling and waiting for her brain to kick in.

She flipped the peice of paper around a few times in between her thumb and index finger.

And then it hit her.

"Oh..." She muttered, near dropping the paper. "Jonah, you didn't."

"Oh, but I did," Jonah would reply.

"_But I did_," He muttered aloud.

"Did what?"

Eli's voice brought back reality.

It was now years later, and Jonah was in a mini-mart with his hand on a box of Runts.

"Nothing," Jonah said, and he took his hand off the box. "Just don't feel like having candy anymore."

"Well good for you," Eli snickered and made his way to the front. "Perhaps now you'll go on a good diet?"

The door opened as Jonah scoffed at Eli's remark, following him to the front of the store to get his blue drink.

They were a little too late. A tall, skinny man in a dark forest green, knee-length jacket

was hunched over with his hands placed on the counter. His whole being was soaked in water, and the coat was dripping furiously.

"I...would like...to know..." He Began. He sounded very cold for his voice wavered violently. "Where...I could find the nearest...theater."

The woman at the counter looked up from her magazine, and stared with a blank expression. Her jaw moving in a steady rhythm while the gum in her mouth continued losing flavor.

"Did'ya want a map of the town, hon?" She said in a Canadian drawl. "I can give you one on me if you'd like. 'Cause honestly, no one wants them anyway."

He held up one of his hands, and the lady laid the map in it.

"Thank you," He managed to say, as he turned around to walk off. "Sorry about your counter."

The woman chuckled and reached below to grab a rag. "No, it's okay. Happens all the time."

The door opened and closed again, and Jonah could see the man in the corner of his eye.

He was hunched over still, clutching his arms to himself.

Though silhouetted by the bright light from the outside street corner, Jonah couldn't help but notice the mans facial frame. It was narrow, solemn, and through the shadows Jonah could see a gleaming green eye staring ahead.

"Jonah? It's our turn," Eli wavered a hand in front of Jonah's unblinking eyes. "He-lloooooo?"

"Yeah, yeah I know," Jonah Replied, setting his cold, blue drink down.

Something kept nudging Jonah.

Tapping his head, his brain. Telling him to go outside.

It annoyed him like an itch that was impossible to reach and despite his efforts to scratch at it mentally, it nagged at him, pulled at his internal alarm, nearly begging him to just take a step outside.

"I'll be right back," He said hurriedly, pushing through the door before Eli could say anything in protest.

Jonah darted toward his left and caught glimpse of the man that had just taken leave.

He was quite a ways away, walking hastily.

"Hey," Jonah said quietly. He cleared his throat. "HEY!"

The figure turned around, shouting back in a very rough voice. "WHAT!?"

Jonah then realized he really had no clue why he was out there in the first place.

The low breeze blew against them both in the silence.

Jonah shivered a little as his spine reacted to the coldness hitting his skin.

"I...uh..." He started. "Look! Do you need any help!?"

The figure ahead of him slouched even more, as if exasperated.

"You're not serious, are you!?"

Jonah flinched at that. "Pardon!?"

The man stood up straight a little. Even from so far away, Jonah could see his coat dripping like mad.

"No! I'm fine, thank you!"

"You sure?!" Jonah noticed his own voice getting lower and lower with every turn. "I mean...you look like you cou..."

"Of course I'm sure! Numb-nut!!" The voice was forced. A fake joking tone was noted, followed by a dry chuckle.

Jonah blinked at the last response.

The tall man turned around, and started walking again.

The hollow footsteps of motorcycle boots followed by the heavy thick sound of damp fabric rubbing against fabric rang through the very empty street.

Jonah saw him turn the corner, and he heard nothing more.

He stood alone, near the door of the store. Forcing himself to stand up straight, he turned and opened the store's door.

Ring-a-ling went the bell.

Ring-a-lang it went again when he closed it slowly.

"You okay there, Jonah?" Eli asked him, toting the blue drink along. "You look funky."

"I feel rather funky," His eyes were open wide and his brows were furrowed into a worried look.

"Let's get home then," Eli said quietly. "I think a good rest should do you good, Jonah."

"Rest?" Jonah looked up.

"Yeah, you look pale."

"Oh?"

Eli pushed open the door...Ring-a-ling...and ushered Jonah back outside. "Well, yeah, you really don't look well at all."

"Something doesn't seem right, Eli." Jonah said quietly as he grabbed his drink. "You know?"

Eli really didn't know, to be fair.

He actually was rather clueless as to why Jonah was acting the way he was. Right now, Eli could have dismissed the weird notions all together, and he thought he should.

"Let's go home," Eli said in a low voice.

"Yeah, good idea."

They both walked out into the night air and looked up at the sky in unison to feel water droplets fall onto their face. Clearly the rainy season was now at its peak. More clouds were ready to burst and they were just as full as the ones from the previous night.

Turning left, Jonah and Eli walked along the same path that the tall man took.

Jonah couldn't help but look at the floor, secretly hoping that he'd see footprints, or a dark forest green coat, or something to let him know he wasn't seeing things.

And even though Eli tried to assure him that he was indeed seeing what he saw, it did not calm the doubtful tapping in his soul.


End file.
